Writer's Paradise
by bubukittypuck
Summary: We find our Erik, our handsome modern Phantom, in a modernday frenzy of love, deceit, lies, and a good amount of humor. A bestselling author he is, who will be his muse for it?
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1- The Start Of Something...

Disclaimer: All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of myself and are owned by me, with the exception of a few. These characters are of my own, inspired by The Phantom of the Opera the movie, Gaston Leroux, Susan Kay, and a few other authors. I do not endorse nor do I own, any of the said products, mentioned in the story.

Most of the places referred to in this story are fictional. I do not own any of the celebrities mentioned in the story, but I do wish to someday own Gerard Butler. Hee, other than that, this story is here to be read and enjoyed. Review would be nice and please, no flammers at this time. This is my first Phantom fiction story to be published on and thank you for your time in reading this.

Horizontal line means next scene.

Bold words are memories/flashbacks

Italicized words are thoughts

Parentheses ( ) is translations from other language.

AN means a pause in the story for an author's note.

Bold and italicized words are songs and song titles.

Italic and Underline are POV's

: meaning of the abbreviations.

Hope you like this chapter, I put a lot into this story.

Chapter 1–The Start of Something...

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New Orleans, early morning:

"No, comment," stated Jesse, staring out the window before turning to look back at her friend, Cordelia. Thoughts rambled through her mind, each one nagging at her to do something about her predicament.

"No, comment?" Cordelia asked, shaking her head a bit, wondering what was going on in Jesse's head. She started tonotice Jesse grow a bit dimmer and weary every day. This was not good for a woman at her age, finding it was better to party and sleep with as many men as a female pleased.

"Yes, no, comment, and I don't want to talk about it anymore."

Could they not understand, she wanted to be left alone? How many more would come and demand something of her, knowing she couldn't give them what they wanted. Not at this time, though she tried to get their money on time. Damn if they didn't want their payments.

"You, know you have to. This place is falling apart, and you are in desperate need of money to fix this place up. You even know your cousin is not going to work on this house for free. He wants his money!"

Shaking her head, Jesse looked out the window, for the third time in a row, trying to find a solution to her problems. She knew, she needed to get the house fixed soon, along with trying to come up with the money. The bank was getting on her last nerve, calling her up about her payment. They urged her to get her payments in order and on time before something happened. Threatening her was the last thing they wanted to do. She wanted to bop each of trust board's heads off, if she could. If she did, they would have rejected her loan and foreclose on the house. She was in their pockets.

One thing was for sure, she could knock out her cousin's teeth. Having the nerve to charge her that much money, knowing she could talk to his mother about it. They were family after all, but she couldn't blame him. Even he had his own financial problems.

"Fine, what is your idea?"

"Well..."

If this ever was a time for an Angel to appear and save her, this was the time. How was she to know this Angel who would appear to her, would be come soon enough.

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New York, same day:

"Erik, you need to get your new book out soon. The publishing company is getting on my back about it. They want to market it, and put it out in stores before summer ends," stated Anthony, shaking his head a bit.

A pulsing migraine started in the back of Erik's head, knowing it would turn into a headache in less then fifteen minutes.

"I know, I know, I just am having trouble with how to ascend their relationship. How am I supposed to think of passion and lust, when my fiancee' just left me for another man!"

"What can I say, other than I am sorry for your loss. If I was in your position, I wouldn't want to write another erotic novel, but your public awaits. You are making a name for yourself and you can't let your readers down," berated Anthony, slamming his fist into his open palm, emphasizing his point.

Groaning, Erik rubbed at his eyes a bit, before placing his glasses back onto his face. He found his eyes were giving him problems, after all the years of writing in the dark, either typing away at his computer, or scribbling ideas in his notebooks.

"Quit pressuring me already, damn it! I feel as if I can't breathe every time, I came in for a meeting with you. I just need more time and besides the reader's wouldn't care if I disappeared off the face of the earth. I write under a pen name, damn it!" he answered, slamming his fist onto the table.

"I don't care if you are writing under a pen name, Erik. You have no more time. We need the next installment of your series within the next month. If the publishing company doesn't get it, then you are going to be dropped from the company. I mean it this time, they are getting fed up with your excuses," Anthony answered, shaking his head, placing his hands into his silk trousers.

"Excuses? Is a bleeding and broken heart, considered an excuse," questioned Erik, standing up from the chair he had been sitting in for the last half-hour.

Pacing back and forth now, across the room, Erik tried to get his bearings in order. The company wanted to drop him and all he could think about was ways to get his fiancee'. How was pathetic was he to think he could get her back. Damn, his overbearing nature.

"The company does not think it's a valid reason for your supposed writer's block."

"Anything else," he asked, tilting his head to look at Anthony.

"Off the record, I know you are a good writer and you damn well know how to get to the female population. You have a way with words and being able to compose it into a stellar book. I want, no, I need you to get this book done. For your sake and mine, Erik."

Seconds passed as unfilled tension took over, leaving a static in the air. On one side of the room stood Anthony, drenched in a Versace suit, while Erik on the other side, pacing back and forth, dressed in a jeans and a black turtleneck. He hadn't even bothered to shave his five o'clock shadow, wanting to get to the appointment on time.

"Yes, yes, I know."

"Yes, I know you know, but I want you to understand."

Biting back a curse, Erik turned to look at Anthony. "I will understand, but I have a few conditions."

Ideas started to bounce around his head, as he scrubbed his hand over his cheek, feeling the prickly facial hair. Reminding himself to shave later, he gave Anthony a smirk.

Anthony rolled his eyes, sitting down in his leather, customized chair. Letting out an exasperated sigh, he pulled out a cigarette case, taking from it a cigarette. "You are going to be the death of me," he said aloud, placing the cigarette to his lips and lighting it. Taking a long drag from it, he blew the smoke out through his mouth, making a ringlet of circles before dispersing into the air.

"I know, but I'll make sure it's a painful death," Erik answered, sarcastically, placing his hands at the back of his neck and yawning.

"Really now?"

"Yes, besides, I won't be the one to kill you, those cigarette's will do its job."

With a shake of his head, Anthony, searched through his drawers, trying to find what he needed. How could he put himself through the ordeal of throwing himself at Erik's mercy. He was the editor, but Erik was the one who held the purse strings. Without him, Anthony didn't have any means of acquiring his expensive good, knowing it came from the commission he made off of Erik. He loved his patent leather suede shoes as well as, his suits, knowing they came from the sales of Erik's latest books.

"What are you looking for," Erik inquired, trying his best to calm himself down. It wasn't working.

He was working himself up over a stupid book to which he could finish in a night if he felt like it. Reason was, he didn't feel like it. Hadn't since Chris had gone off , and married Raul, a Latin model from Spain. How could Chris, a female, English pop singer, want to marry a famous Latin model with a great ass? Well, she did, leaving Erik in the dust. Still mourning, even three month's later, Erik couldn't get back into his rhythm of writing. His muse had been Chris, basing all of the female heroines on her alone. Now, with her out of his life, Erik needed to find his next muse quickly, or he would find himself drinking his sorrows away. Brought out of his horrid thoughts, was the nose of open and closed drawers and shuffling papers on a desk.

"A notepad to write down your horrid demands," Anthony answered, giving him a triumphant glee, once he was able to find a notepad.

Pulling out a pen from its hold, Anthony started to write in capital letters, 'ERIK'S DEMANDS'. One thing was for sure, Anthony would try his damn near best to get Erik back onto track. If he had to dress up like a freaking woman and act like Chris, then he would do it indeed. Though, he hoped Erik didn't request it.

"You ready," Erik asked, leaning back and forth on the balls of his feet, before pacing back and forth across the room again.

"Yes," answered Anthony, his pen poised over the paper, ready to take notes.

"I need to find a place where I can write. An apartment or a loft would sound good, but a place where no one would think I would be in, and I need the press to know that I have gone on sabbatical, to get my thoughts in order. Tell them, I left for Europe or something, but I will be here, in hiding."

"Where are you going to go?"

"I was thinking of New Orleans, I found it to be rather inspiring."

"You just want to go there, because its right around Mardi Gras, time."

"Exactly."

"Dog."

"Not a dog, a monster. Do I have to correct you on that," he questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"No. Anything else?"

"Yes, I want an advance. Just enough for food, clothing, and anything I might need, while I am hiding out. Do not, and I repeat, do not, let anyone else outside this room know my location. I don't need people leaking out to the press of what I am really doing. If the press gets ahold of it, who knows what lies they might conjure up. Last time, they tried to guess who I really was and came up with, 'overweight, middle-aged, balding man, came up with the story'. Nice of them to say that," he answered, biting back another slew of curses.

There were times when he had wished, he hadn't picked up a pen and started writing. If he hadn't of written his first book, 'Music's Lover', he wouldn't have to worry about his safety or his privacy. Before having the book published, he could have walked through the streets of New York, and never worry about having to please someone. Never having to impress anyone, or live up to anyone's expectation. Be his own man and write stories, only he would cherish. Now, he had to write yet another novel to quench the hunger his readers' wanted. It was a smart move of not putting his real name on the cover, or snap of picture to be place on the book cover.

God, if he had, the paparazzi would be on his heels, just as if he was a celebrity. Just like some celebrities, he would have attacked a few of the paparazzi's and be thrown in jail for it. He had a nasty temper, always having trouble trying to control it.

Nodding, Anthony wrote everything down and threw the notepad onto the desk. Threading his fingers through his chestnut hair, he looked up at Erik. "I hope you know what you are doing," he stated.

"I know, now I just need to find a place that would be considered a dump," he answered, smiling a bit.

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A/N: That's the end of the first chapter. I do hope you like the first chapter. Please review this and there will soon be another chapter coming soon. You will know what shall happen to our dear Jesse and Erik. Until then, kiddies, review. No flammers.


	2. Let Me Rest In Peace

Disclaimer: All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of myself and are owned by me, with the exception of a few. These characters are of my own, inspired by The Phantom of the Opera the movie, Gaston Leroux, Susan Kay, and a few other authors. I do not endorse nor do I own, any of the said products, mentioned in the story.

Most of the places referred to in this story are fictional. I do not own any of the celebrities mentioned in the story, but I do wish to someday own Gerard Butler. Hee, other than that, this story is here to be read and enjoyed. Review would be nice and please, no flammers at this time. This is my first Phantom fiction story to be published on and thank you for your time in reading this.

Horizontal line means next scene.

Bold words are memories/flashbacks

Italicized words are thoughts

Parentheses ( ) is translations from other language.

AN means a pause in the story for an author's note.

Bold and italicized words are songs and song titles.

Italic and Underline are POV's

: meaning of the abbreviations.

Hope you like this chapter, I put a lot into this story.

Chapter 2: Let Me Rest In Piece

* * *

"Put out flyers? Are you out of your mind," screamed, Jesse, shaking her head at the notion. There was no way in hell she was going to put out flyers, not in a million years. 

"Come on, you are going to get more hopefuls to look at the house," answered Cordelia, rolling her eyes a bit. Having a habit of rolling her eyes and being a bossy woman, when it came to being friends with Jesse.

"No, I am going to get freaks and psychos, if I place flyers around the place. For all, I know I can get a sexual predator to come by the house," stated Jesse, coming up with a list of reasons of why she wouldn't put up flyers.

"Quit the bull, Jesse. You just can't handle having anyone in the house, either than yourself. You are getting attached to a house that could be the death of you."

"Hey, at least, they can bury my corpse here," Jesse spat back.

"Are you on any kind of medication?"

"No."

"Would you like to be?"

"Don't tempt me, Cordy."

"Sorry, I told you I cannot be your lover."

"Aye, shut up," Jesse answered, throwing a pillow at her.

They both laughed, having moved to her unmade bed, talking about plans for the house. Cordelia had thought about putting up flyers, advertising a room for rent. Counteracting, Jesse came up with the idea of putting an ad in the newspaper. It was struck down, when she realized it would cost even more money to keep the ad in the paper running along with how much space it took up. More ideas were passed back and forth, but they were all thrown into the trash. Only option left for Jesse, was the flyer or asking the bank for another loan.

"I am not going to the bank for another loan. Not even after making late payments on the mortgage. They just want the opportunity to foreclose on the house and sell it off."

"What can I say?"

"Other than, how many flyers are we going to need," questioned Jesse, chewing on her lower lip.

"Victory is mine," shouted Cordelia, as she got off the bed, grabbing the phone.

"Watch it," she answered.

"Now, we can get one flyer, but it should colored ones. You know how they can be eye-catching if they are colorful, and for fifty-nine cents a colored flyer, it would come out to be about twenty-five dollars," calculated Cordelia in her head.

"Can I borrow twenty-five bucks," she asked, giving her a Cheshire smile.

"Fine, but you are paying me back, when you get a new tenant. Better yet, you can throw a party in honor of Mardi Gras coming around the corner."

"No. Not happening."

"Come on!."

"Don't, come on me."

"Ooo, dirty."

"Stop that, besides you have Charlie," she answered, shaking her head.

"Yes, and he is a good lover," she answered, demonstrating by swiveling her hips and making inappropriate noises.

Placing her hands over her ears, she answered in a child-like voice. "God! Stop! You are talking about my cousin, ewww..."

Smirking, she kept moving her hips to and fro and shouted as loud as she could, "Your cousin who is hung like a—"

The last words never left her mouth. Jesse managed to shut Cordelia up, by throwing a pillow at her, and exiting the room. Not wanting to be subjected to the torture of hearing about her cousin's love life, Jesse felt she had done right by her action. Cordelia wasn't going to let Jesse get away with it. Grabbing another pillow, she walked out of the bedroom and ran after Jesse.

"Come back here," she called out.

"Yes, you should know," she answered, shaking her head as she complied a list of things to put on the flyer with Jesse.

Twenty-five minutes later...

"Alright, I think we got it. How about this: Landlord seeks tenant to rent upstairs room. $475/month. No large pets. Nuts need not apply," stated, Cordelia.

Scrunching her face in thoughtful concentration, Jesse, nodded in approval and sighed to herself a bit. This was it, she was going to get forty colored copies to hand tape onto the telephone polls, and any place suitable to place up flyers. She just hoped, there would not be any psychos applying to become her tenant, knowing it would not put her in a happy state of mind.

"Sounds good, now I am going to Kinko's to have them done," stated Jesse, reaching forward to grab the paper out of Cordelia's hand. Cordelia on the other hand, wanted to have a bit of fun with her.

"Come on, reach for it, work for it, work for it, reach for it, darling," she teased, standing on the bed, inching away from her.

With all her might, Jesse, tried her best to grab the paper, cursing in Spanish along the way.

"Hey, you know I am bilingually impaired!"

"You didn't mind it when Charlie talks to you like that."

"That's because, he talks dirty while we are do—"

"Lalalala, stop that," Jesse cried out, covering her ears, giving up on grabbing the paper from Cordelia's grasp.

"Knew it would work;just to think, with just a few words you play dead."

"I only do it, because I do not want to hear what you do with my cousin," Jesse answered, shaking her head. God, she did not want to know what went on behind closed doors with her cousin, and she certainly did not want to hear the expressive way Cordelia put it.

"I can't help it, that your cousin's a god in the sheets," she muttered, looking over the paper once more.

"Now, that I did not want to hear. You two are like, bunny rabbits," she joked, shaking her head.

It was hard enough to work three jobs, go to night school, and have time to entertain Cordelia, finding Cordelia sucked the energy of a person, but now she was putting out an ad for a tenant. Thinking this should be a premise for a cooky sitcom, Jesse tried her best to keep herself from flying off the handle, and ringing Cordelia's neck. Smiling at the thought, Jesse, reigned in her thoughts, finding she needed to think about the here and now. The here being the home she restored in New Orleans, and the now, being of getting a tenant to help pay the rent.

"Alright, I'll give you a lift to Kinko's. God knows, you don't need another speeding ticket," she answered, snatching her purse and keys off the kitchen table.

"The tree was clearly blocking the speed limit sign," Cordelia argued.

"What tree? It was a small plant and you know it!" she teased, opening the door to escort Cordelia out. One minute arguing about the house and the next minute bickering over who was arrested and what not. This was going to be an interesting day.

* * *

With the plan in motion, Erik could only think of the apartments for rent in New Orleans, wondering if it was a stupid idea to choose New Orleans as the new residency. He had a week before Mardi Gras, knowing it would be difficult enough to find an apartment in the Big Easy, but with thousands of people in the street, flashing their tops for beads? Somehow, he feared at least one of the Mardi Gras goers would be smart enough to connect the reason he was here to the book. He was not exactly going to lie to the landlord, if they asked what he did for a living, but he would improvise on it. 

"I am a food critic," he repeated to himself over and over, trying to remember the part he was supposed to play. Feeling like a character in his story, Erik scanned the classifieds for apartments in the city.

Having seen three apartments, Erik felt enraged and shocked at how high the cost of renting an apartment rent, when the apartment was crap. One of the landlord's charged fifteen hundred dollars a month, for a one room apartment, with its owners, by which were cockroaches, still occupying the place. The feeling of never finding a good enough apartment for him, gave him a sickening feeling, cursing he was not getting his way.

"Damn it to hell," he whispered to himself, passing by a blond haired maiden, as she stapled a sign to a phone post.

Even the first stirring of lust did not arise with seeing the little vixen, Erik thought to himself. It was not the short skirt, the Magdalene wore that caught his attention, but it was what she was stapling to the post. A flyer, stating a De La Krux, inquired an upstairs tenant for a house/apartment. His eyes could not believe what De La Krux was willing to rent it out for. It was less than the usual apartment in New Orleans.

Clearing his throat, he asked, "Excuse me, but is that the correct rent charge?" He hoped it was not a mistake, praying to God it was the exact price.

Engrossed in keeping the flyer in just the right position, it took a few seconds too long, for the question to sink into the blond's mind. Turning around to see the person who asked her, she gasped.

_Damn it to hell, she knows who I am. Wait. She does not know who I am, because I never placed my picture on the book cover. I need to stop drinking coffee after midnight, it is starting to affect me._

"Oh, I am sorry. It is just, that you a gorgeous man," she answered, bluntly.

Even the flirtatious comment did not give him the urge to give a compliment right on back to her. What was wrong with him? Seems Chris not only taken his heart, but his balls upon leaving him.

"Thank you," he murmured, "but, what about the rent?"

"The rent? Oh! The rent! Yes, that is the correct amount of rent for the apartment," she answered, nodding her head, chewing on her lower lip at him.

_Interesting, though it seems I want nothing to do with her. Damn Chris for this. She should have never have left me for Raul. I gave her the world of literature and how does she repay me? Runs off to marry an ass model! Need to get a grip, because this women is looking at me, like I am next on her meal._

Reigning in his thought, Erik managed to comment on how he was looking for an apartment to live in. The blond asked as to whether he was a psycho, stalker, molester, rapist, pedophile, or married. Erik answered no to every one of them, finding a bit strange for the woman to ask whether he was married or thought. Shrugging off the thought of the woman wanting to become romantically involved, he asked about the description of the house.

"Oh, it's a beauty. It's an old Victorian home, and it was handed down to Jess. Been fixing it up for a while, though now a person renting the room upstairs will help with repairing the house to its state of grace."

"Really now? I have never really had the opportunity to see a Victorian, finding I leaned toward loft's and studio apartments, but I would like to see this house, if you do not mind."

Flashing a smile, Erik got his way into the good graces of the blond, having a feeling she knew the landlord, intimately. He would not be surprised if she was sleeping with the landlord, sensing the man wanted to rent an apartment to have extra cash to spend on the woman. Assuming it was a male landlord, named Jess, Erik assumed it would be a money in the bank. How wrong he really was as he receive the directions to the house, and made an appointment to see it.

"Tomorrow around three in the afternoon, sounds good. Jess will be home around then, so you can meet the landlord of the place," she answered, smiling at him.

"Until then," he stated, nodding his head to her.

"Until then," she whispered, smiling to herself. "Oh, Jesse is going to love me."

* * *

A/N: That's the end of the first chapter. I do hope you like the first chapter. Please review this and there will soon be another chapter coming soon. You will know what shall happen to our dear Jesse and Erik. Until then, kiddies, review. No flammers. 


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